


Redemption: The Recall

by CitrusCyrus



Series: Overwatch: The Recall [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Multi, Post-Alive (Overwatch), Post-Fall of Overwatch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 11:59:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10593564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CitrusCyrus/pseuds/CitrusCyrus
Summary: With Overwatch recalled, TALON puts their plan into action to track down a God Program A.I. known as "Hephaestus" in Dorado at the LumeriCo facility...just as two renegades from the nuclear Outback plot their heist to steal the A.I.'s codes for themselves while in Gibraltar McCree, Mercy, Winston, and Tracer attempt to track down the remaining agents including the lost Mei-Ling in order to built their organization against the TALON threat.The heroes and villains from all sides of the conflict cross paths as the Omnic threat resurfaces in the form of these God A.I.'s... A threat that could finally end humanity as they know it.





	1. Recalled.

**Gibraltar Watch Point.**  
Spanish-U.K. Territory.   
Present.  
  
“Winston?” The voice interrupted the simian’s thoughts. The names and faces were scrolling by him so fast that he himself got lost in the eyes of all the men and women the computer system was presenting to him. Eyes that had seen the worst, and the best, that the world had to offer.  
“Yes, Athena, Sorry.” Winston gently removed his glasses and brought his two large fingers to rub under his sore, watering eyes. His body still ached, and his muscles were still delicate from the Talon operative he that ambushed him just hours before. The scorch marks from The Reaper’s canon’s still pulsating at his muscular arms and across his chest.   
“Winston…you are happy. But your body language tells me otherwise. Is this fear?” The calming voice questioned, trying to get a better read on her only company in the deserted base that once held many more.   
“I’m not afraid, Athena…or I don’t think I am…” Winston reclined in his chair and his feet reached for a jar of peanut butter, feeling that it was empty he tossed it over his head and listened as it landed with a small plastic thud into the trash bin which had become a cemetery of similar containers.  
“I’m just…I hope they all come. All of them. I want to change this world for the better, and I know we can do it. I just know we can.”  
The artificial voice gave a soft _mhm_ of acknowledgement. That was new.  
_She’s learning, all right. Faster than I give her credit for,_ the gorilla thought to himself with satisfaction.   
“You seem elated when you see the face of Lena Oxton. The _Tracer_. I think you have feelings for her.”  
_Yeah, she’s learning. Maybe too fast._ Winston’s features clumped together in embarrassment.   
“I do not! She’s…she was my friend. One of my best friends,” Winston light heartedly deflected.   
“And Angela Zeigler. _Mercy_. I could sense something in her voice, Winston. She sounded both happy and sad. What do you call that?” Athena questioned. The light blue and white hue of the screens around him was the only source of light in the dark oceanic night-sky which had consumed the island.   
“I don’t know what I’d call that. Maybe she’s…looking for redemption.”   
“ _Redemption_.” Athena repeated back slowly.    
“The action of saving, or being saved from sin, error, or evil. Noun.” Athena clarified.   
“Yes,” Winston acknowledged, “I think maybe we all are. We’re getting another chance to save this world.”   
“An illegal chance, Winston. The Petras Act-“  
“-I know, Athena. But sometimes to do some good, you have to be a little…bad, first.” Winston adjusted his glasses, and caught himself wearing a cocky smile in his reflection.   
  
It was getting late into the night, late enough that it would be early morning soon, and Winston scaled the rocky formation the base had been quietly built into. Finding a spot at the top thanks to a weak boost from his backpack’s thrusters, he let the cool breeze from the ocean kiss at his hair.   
He’d successfully recalled several of his former allies, and was surprised that they’d all made it this long. More than twenty years into the future, and he’d almost not recognized a few of them.   
Reinhardt Wilhelm’s location had shown him in Nuuk, Greenland and his booming voice was almost so overjoyed Winston thought he’d need to replace the speaker system on his set-up. The triumphant night’s flowing thick mane of hair now encompassed his strong jaw, just as white.   
Jesse McCree was in the United States, somewhere. The cowboy was happily chomping on a cigar on some dusty Texas road, and tilted the brim of his hat to acknowledge the request.   
Lena was in England, attending a Shambali gathering where their leader, _Tekhartha Mondatta,_ would be addressing a crowd in an attempt to sway the Human/Omnic relationship.  
Mei-Ling…was still lost. Lord only knew where. _That would be Winston’s first joint task_.    
Genji Shimada told the monkey he had business to deal with at home, but he would soon find his way to him.  
But there were more heroes. More he needed. He couldn’t just take on the world…take on Talon…with a handful. Winston then drifted his eyes skyward, at the dark of the moon above.   
The Horizon Lunar Colony was still illuminated as bright as ever, like a hairline crack upon the surface of the Moon. It mocked him, and it made him feel at peace all at once.   
“I’m doing this for you, Winston.” He whispered the keeper of his namesake into the air, and touched the man’s glasses that he wore in his memory.   
_“I’m doing this for all of us.”_

* * *

**King’s Row.**  
London.   
  
The crowd was hundreds deep and the London air was chilled just how Lena Oxton enjoyed it.  
Although she had never had a love yet- a true love- that didn’t involve aviation, her heart was filled to the brim at the sight around her infront of the Meridian Theatre. The cobblestone street was populated by humans and Omnic alike. Friends, lovers, all gathered to welcome words of peace as the world seemed to grow more and more frightening.   
In her yellow jumpsuit, sprinter’s shoes, and jacket, Lena was a sight.  
_Tha’s the point, love._ She’d told the Shambali when she’d volunteered for security detail.   
_By tha’ time they see me commin’ it’s usually too late.  
_ And she’d anticipated an attack ever since Mondatta said he was coming to visit. Eyes to the rooftops, eyes on the ground, Lena was prepared for anything.   
Then something told her to look up. _An instinct? intuition?_ Lena’s gaze along the gorgeous architecture silhouetting the London night sky shifted to a figure that looked like it belonged to a slender phantom.  
An omen from the darkness itself. It was perched hanging upside down, like a spider, with 7 beady red eyes glowing softly in the pitch of the night. It’s form then began to lower, dipping seductively between the buildings. The arachnid shadow slipping from sight.   
Lena smirked, and broke from the crowd to confront it. 


	2. In the Spider's Sight

There was nothing to compare to the feeling, the way every single inch of her skin would erupt into chills in a chaotic burst of warmth and cold as she slipped through the sky- her ear drums pounding at the shock of the air and time around her. Lena, as a child, had always dreamed of flying.  
Dreamed of following in the footsteps of her father- an ace pilot in the British RAF- and of making the Oxton name one that history wouldn’t soon forget. As she zipped towards the figure, the Chronal Accelerator bearing down on her chest gave a weak pulse- she only had two leaps left before she’d need to recharge…but she was right where she needed to be.   
Lena somersaulted out of her streak, ejecting the magnetic pistols from her arm’s holsters and began to fire. The figure wasn’t having that. The slender shadow kicked herself up and back against the side of the building she was dangling at and began to fire wildly. Lena carefully zipped through the air once more and, in a diagonal path, used the carried momentum to slam the attacker through the window behind, sending them both toppling into a narrow hallway.   
In the dim light, she caught her first good look. The shapely body was blue in color, like a corpse, and barely concealed in a tight fighting concord colored bodysuit.   
  
Grape colored hair flowed from the woman’s scalp in an elaborate and thin ponytail that stretched to the back of her thighs.    
“Here to crash the party, love?” Tracer popped off and she gripped her pistols, waiting for the character to move.  
The woman’s lips tugged into a smug expression and her serpentine colored eyes seemed to smile at her like she was a meal. The would-be sniper readied her weapon and began to fire just fast enough for her to vault back out into the sky, and with a _ping_ her grappling hook took her up into the night.   
Lena was on her heels, enjoying the chase too much to let go. With two quick bursts she landed on the rooftop  
_She’s a quick one!_ Lena thought. Her eyes could barely keep track of the woman as she sprinted and leapt across the London skyline. Her figure twisting and twirling over brick exit huts and smoking pipes like paper flittering through a gust of wind…but she wasn’t fast enough to escape Lena.   
“ _Tracer_ to Security! We have a breach up here, get Mondatta to safety, now!” She yelled into her ear piece as every blip and leap showed more and more bodies of the rooftop security the girl had apparently dispatched.   
_She’s a monster, too._  
One blink, then another, and soon Lena was midair clearing a wide gap that the assailant had just vaulted with ease. No powers required. The figure slipped behind an orgy of brick and pipe, and soon Lena landed and began to vault until-   
Something snapped. Even at the supersonic speed, breaking through time itself, she could hear the mechanism go off, and then her lungs burned. Her vision was fading, and Lena Oxton slipped into a painful tumble across the wet cement of the roof.   


It was in her goggles; she couldn’t choke it out. She held her throat and began to heave as if a thousand needles were making their way up her esophagus.   
Through the violet visions covering her eyes, the woman approached. Her walk was refined yet sexual at the same time, like there was modesty in her lustful swagger.   
“Poor little girl,” She spoke. A thick French accent caressed her words like smooth silk, “I think you’ve fallen into my trap.”   
Lena gagged when words could not be reached, and then she felt her accelerator whirr and click to life. Taking a deep, painful breath, she was thrust backwards through subspace itself and her health began to return as her veins screamed to life and her muscles roared under her skin from the pressure applied by the reversal.   
Lena was now clearing the gap once again, and slammed down on the roof to blink rapidly towards the woman, dazed by the strategy.   
“Poor lady!” Oxton laughed, blinking from the woman’s front to her rear within an instant as she delivering two strikes to her jaw then her lower back in less than a second.   
“Looks like ya’ not the only one with some tricks and traps!” She withdrew her dual pistols and pressed them at the fine arch of the figure.   
A beat of silence, then a chuckle.   
  
Lena was about to speak, then realized her error. Her feet were planted in the middle of a nearly invisible circle of the assassin’s fine wire.  
_She calculated my moves! Already!_ Lena’s accelerator weakly flashed red. She was still recharging.   
The trap sprung and brought the zippy agent slamming down to her face and then backwards, and dangling upside down over a metal grating.   
The woman was off again, and in a clear view of the wide city-square below as the security guards attempted to push Mondatta through a thick sea of humans and Omnics, screaming for peace. Screaming to be comforted by the sage’s words.   
_No. No. No._ Lena though, as she waited. The few seconds were an eternity for what her adversary was capable of. She saw the shadowed figure hunch over, to line up her shot.   
Lena screamed and began to fire her pistols to no avail, and then finally at the height of her anger…  
The machine at her breast kicked to life. She was ready.  
One blink sent her just over the head of the sharp-shooter and into a free-fall above the maddening crowd below. Suspended in the air, she was ready for the next blink to take her right into-  
_CRACK!_ The rifle fired _._ She blinked.   
  
“Hah!” She yelled, crashing into the sniper and sending her gun slipping and spiraling across the rooftop behind them as she was now on top of the woman.  
“I’m ‘fraid ya missed. And I’ll be…” Tracer then heard the screams below. _The cries._   
The collective loss of hope was more frighteningly palpable than anything she’d felt before.   
“No, no,” Lena took herself away from the sniper and gazed at the chaos below. The chaos surrounding the pristine white figure of the Omnic known as Mondatta.   
The corpse of Mondatta.   
  
Behind her was a quiet laughter. Lena turned around and blinked ontop of the woman once again, the joy in her eyes was horrific.   
“Why?!” Lena questioned through tears of anger, “Why did you do it?!”  
The woman just smiled. Her white teeth and piercing golden eyes were like the mask of a demon.   
Then the sky lit up. Like the heavens themselves were coming into view.   
The killer violently slammed her own forehead into Lena’s jaw sending the Tracer spiraling back off the roof, but that wasn’t going to work. Lena blinked back up and- the rifle peppered her, tearing through her clothes and her accelerator. The device whimpered a mechanical distress and soon Lena was falling down, down, with no chance of recovery.   



	3. The Lonely Cowboy

**Cape Charles, Virginia.**  
United States.   
  
The tangerine sky looked lovely enough as the cream colored clouds lazily stretched across it just above where the dark blue of the ocean attempted to kiss it.   
The dwindling light was trying it’s best to comfort Jesse McCree, but with a strike of a thin wooden match across the heel of his fading boots, he ignited cigar to ward away the weakness. The dark clear sky would be over him soon, and it was coming quick over the rooftop of the _Drunken Sailor Inn._  
Located just at the tip of the world, the Inn was sophisticated in its attempt to recreate the town’s seafaring heydays, but not sophisticated enough to keep out a few rouges like himself.   
“Sir?” An auto tuned voice spoke from behind him as the Omnic waiter held out a rich glass of whiskey.   
“Thank you kindly.” The man spoke low, eyes still locked on the sunset.   
“Anything else, sir?” The Omnic asked.   
“Nothin’ I don’t think you could help me with.” McCree whispered, taking a drink. It burned, but it was good…it was also his 4 th in an hour.   
“It is my job to assist our guests in anyway that I can.” The waiter said to him, taking a seat in a vintage straw chair just next to the cowboy on the secluded porch McCree had been sitting at every day for almost a week now. _Watching the ocean._ _Waiting._  
“I lost someone,” McCree said softly, “Someone I don’t think I’ll ever be able to find again.”   
Another drink.  
“Still think you can help me, partner?”   
“I too, have lost someone. We all did. They killed our last chance of true unity with human and Omnic alike.” The Omnic spoke, his smooth chrome features also staring out onto the water. His hollow eyes too were searching for something.   
Jesse gave a grunt of understanding. He’d seen the news. It’s all _ATLAS_ had been talking about.   
“What’s your name?” Jesse asked, bringing the brim of his hat up to face his company.   
“It was a sequence of 1’s and 0’s so long and elaborate I think you would be in a nursing home by the time I finished. But you can now just call me Randal.”   
Jesse chuckled at that, and raised his glass to cheers the Omnic’s sense of humor.  
“What’s hers?” Randal asked.  
Before Jesse could react, the Omnic clarified:  
“I’ve seen many men and women stare out at this sea, waiting for a ship to come in that never will. Carrying a lover lost to the sea or to time.” Randal’s electronic voice had a softer, more sympathetic tone now.  
“Her name was Mei-Ling.” Jesse punctuated the reveal with another sip of his whiskey.   
“ _Was_ or _is_?” The Omnic turned to him. The sunset now turned to night, and the circuitry and designs across his new friend’s faceplate lit a soft blue.   
“Couldn’t tell ya, Randal. I saw her more than 20 years back…with _Overwatch._ I said goodbye to her, but I shoulda’ said I loved her then. I been waiting the past two decades to finally say what I never had to nerve to.”   
The Omnic wasn’t fazed by Jesse’s admittance of his involvement in Overwatch.   
“If she were to be here before you now, what would you say?”   
  
McCree finished his drink and bit the inside of his cheek as he swallowed the mature burn.   
“I’d take her by the hand,” Jesse took a breath, “and I’d say _hey darlin’. How’bout a dance_?”   
_And she’d smile. Her big cheeks raised to her deep almond eyes and she’d blush redder than a pepper, and she’d laugh.  
And she’d laugh, and we’d dance.   
_  
The conversation continued in vignettes as Randal would come in and out to service him until the clock struck at midnight, and he was off with a fond handshake and a genuine goodbye.   
In the morning, Jesse McCree’s cab would take him to Norfolk International, and then to Gibraltar.   
But that was the morning, and he still had to drink himself to sleep.   
In the star-lit sky he kept waiting to see the men he fought just weeks ago on the bullet train through Texas. The _Talon_ men.   
He remembered how they moved, how they acted. Their tells. _They were Blackwatch.  
Not just normal Blackwatch. Now just your run of the mill soldier-type.   
_ Jesse held the glass by the brim, sloshing it playfully side to side.   
_They moved like Reyes._  
He swallowed the rest of it, and went back to puff on his cigar until it’s cherry faded, leaving him in the shadows of a starry night.   



End file.
